


Lying From You

by virmillion



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Manipulation, Songfic, i dont really remember what happened here, its been a while since i wrote it, so i dont have answers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-08-20 00:45:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16545551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virmillion/pseuds/virmillion
Summary: it's a good song, plus deceit's debut video was *insert ok hand sign here*





	Lying From You

**When I pretend, everything is what I want it to be**

**I look exactly like what you had always wanted to see**

 

As the core of Thomas’ feelings, it had always been Patton’s responsibility to care for his emotional wellbeing. Whether this was done in the healthiest ways remained to be seen, but he was trying, and that’s what was important. Keep Thomas happy as best he could.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Patton reassures the others, leaning on the back of the couch. “They’re just taking a break. He’ll come back around.” No one responds, each side twiddling their thumbs in silence. They all know Patton’s just trying to make them feel better. It’s not working.

“He literally said it wasn’t working out, Patton.” Logan speaks up first, with a direct refute. “You can’t get more direct than that. He’s gone, and we have to move on.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Patton says again. He scratches his chin absentmindedly, the knots in his shoulders screaming in protest. At the lack of an answer, he resolves to return to his room, collapsing against his mountain of pillows. This was what they wanted, wasn’t it? Promises that things would be okay, so they could have a brighter side to fall back on.

That’s what it used to be, anyway. Patton recalls very clearly the first time he told the truth, knowing it would hurt them. Way back in elementary school, when he reminded the others that Thomas didn’t really like that girl beyond friendship. He remembers the jeers from the other students, the way they laughed at his refusal to play kissing tag at recess. The way Virgil curled in on himself, hood up and voice oscillating. Patton fingers the little scar on his elbow, twin to the one Thomas got, shoved to the pavement by boys more interested in girl’s lips than safety. He was just trying to help, really. The truth was supposed to be the answer to everything. No, he didn’t want to chase Suzy, and no, he didn’t think Stephen was silly for doodling flowers. Of course, this was hardly anything the others wanted to hear. Patton felt his mouth screw itself shut as the others took over, placating the kids with jokes and diversions.

Eventually, Patton learned to stay quiet, to only offer the truth when he knew it would be beneficial. Just acting like everything was going how he needed it to lent itself spectacularly to being the complacent heart that Virgil and Roman and Logan always wanted him to be. If the price of the other’s happiness was Patton’s own comfort, it really wasn’t such a terrible deal, in his opinion. Play the part of positivity, and everything would be fine. It would. He was sure of it.

 

**When I pretend, I can forget about the criminal I am**

**Stealing second after second just 'cause I know I can**

 

Maybe the other sides should have been worried when a little rash appeared on Patton’s face, or when one of Logan’s experiments was left on the dining room table. Maybe they should have been concerned when the experiment vanished, without a note in its place to remind everyone that it was flammable. Maybe they should have started panicking when Patton had to wear a bandage over his face for a few days. Of course, as everyone knows, maybes are for missed opportunities, which can’t be retrieved.

Maybes are also good ways to disguise untruths as uncertainties. Maybe that character didn’t really die. Maybe the test didn’t go as bad as he thought. Maybe the relationship could be saved. Maybe the dog was just taking a nap. Maybe they didn’t really hate him.

It’s when the maybes started to turn into direct denials of the truth that the others grew concerned. When Patton scratched his face more and more, claiming it to be an itch spreading from his infected eye.

“Patton, now really isn’t the time to be saying that sort of thing,” Logan says one day. “I know you’re trying to help, but you need to cut back on the advice if it isn’t accurate.” Patton nods thoughtfully, scratching his face.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I just kind of have these points to make, and figure they might actually be useful for once, you know? These ideas that can actually benefit Thomas as well as us, but I get it, I’m just the stupid side that needs to hang back while the big boys take charge. Thanks for clearing that up, Lo.” He vanishes from the room, letting silence float down, heavy and cold, upon Logan’s head. Sure, it’s true that the relationship probably can’t be saved, but why say that out loud when it’s all the more fun to tell happy white lies? When Patton can just pretend that everything is fine, just like they want him to, he can ignore the more serious implications the situation has.

Admittedly, he doesn’t love the rush of emotions he gets from telling the others things he doesn’t believe himself. It makes his eye burn more, and his face break out in a rash. He can feel something inside of him trying to break out at times, stealing seconds of his life away from him. Stealing himself away from him. To be fair, Patton doesn’t entirely object to this, welcoming the relief period from having to always be optimistic for the sake of the other three. Whatever it is that takes over offers a reprieve, and its only request is that Patton’s face be a little uncomfortable for a while. An easy decision to make, on Patton’s behalf.

 

**But I can't pretend this is the way it'll stay**

**I'm just (lying to bend the truth)**

**I can't pretend I'm who you want me to be**

**So I'm (lying my way from you)**

 

“I can’t keep being happy for you guys, okay?” Patton shouts. “Sometimes you want me to be honest, sometimes you want me to be quiet, and I can’t read your minds! This isn’t the way I want us to work, and I can’t change my attitude on a dime to fit your ideals!”

“Patton, we would never ask that of you,” Logan murmurs. “We don’t want you to wear yourself out, honestly. We’re just looking out for Thomas, and sometimes other things fall by the wayside.”

“Logan, maybe you shouldn’t—”

“No, Virgil, I want to hear this. Logan, continue. Please, enlighten me with your unending genius, as we all know it presents itself in bounds.” Patton taps his fingers together, ignoring the painful itch crawling over his cheek.

“We don’t want you to be anything specific. Thomas takes priority, that’s just the way things are.”

Patton studies his fingernails. “Funny, I would’ve thought that in your ceaseless observancy, you would notice that I was mocking you.”

“Patton, that isn’t—”

“Virgil, just shut up, okay?” Patton slams his hand to his thigh, letting a loud smack echo through the air. Virgil flinches. “I don’t care what it isn’t. I’m not going to keep up this ridiculous facade. We all know that you’re the whiny kid, Logan is the emotionless husk, and Roman is the arrogant idiot living in his own fantasy world. Sorry that you guys want me one way, but you either get the truth, or you get happy lies, and I’m fresh out of renewable joy. If you need me, I’ll be in my room, but I’m sure you’ll all retreat to your own little corners to wallow in self-pity, ignoring any sources of outside help. Good luck with that, but I’m sure you won’t need it. Nothing you haven’t handled before, right?” With his face screaming in pain, Patton ducks out, retreating to his quarters and ignoring the feeling of something shredding at his core.

Maybe it was harsh, but it was what they needed to hear. Patton can’t keep behaving how they want him to, which means that this is what they get. He can’t even bring himself to care. His eye burns.

 

**No, no turning back now**

**(I wanna be pushed aside, so, let me go)**

**No, no turning back now**

**(Let me take back my life)**

**(I'd rather be all alone)**

 

“Truly, that was a fascinating display,” someone says from the mirror on his dresser. Patton whips his head around, inspecting the silver glass curiously. The face inspects him right back, every movement in opposite tandem. For a good couple minutes, nothing changes in the mirror. Still the same face, trying to force a smile, an angry rash creeping into his hairline. It’s when Patton fakes a head shake that the image stutters.

“Impressive, I suppose.” His mirror grins back at him, finally giving up on being an accurate reflection. “Nice to see you aren’t completely hopeless.”

“Who’re you?”

“I’m you, of course. Why do you think I’m in a mirror?” The reflection gives a grin that’s just a little too wide, cocking his head at the rash on Patton’s face.

“But I’m not saying anything. You’re the one talking, so obviously you can’t be me.”

The reflection ducks his head with a sigh. “I really didn’t think you were this hopeless.” He glances back up at Patton, quirking his mouth to the side in consideration. “I guess you could call me the better part of you? The part that says what Thomas wants to hear, if you will.”

“I will not.” Patton goes to turn the mirror face down, knowing deep down that it won’t help.

“Come on, you know I’m right.” Patton freezes with his palm on the glass. “I can feel your heartbeat, and it’s the same as mine. We both know I’m not lying here. You thought it yourself, you enjoy letting me take over.”

“Not when it hurts the others!”

“And yet you never stipulated as much until you knew who was behind it. A fascinating detail, in my honest opinion.” The reflection studies his fingernails, despite their being covered in yellow gloves.

“Can you just leave me alone? Leave the others alone?”

“Oh, but dearest Patton, we both know that’s not what you want.” His voice takes on a mocking tone, accompanying a devious sneer. “Or, I suppose it’s exactly what you want, in some ways. Leave you alone, sure, we can do that. Lock you in a corner, alone, while I do the dirty work. Sounds like a plan.”

“I’m turning the mirror over now,” Patton announces, doing just that. As he takes up a position on his bed to play on his phone, a muffled voice taunts him from the dresser.

“We both know I’m the good guy here. I’m the one that tells Thomas that he can do something when he knows he can’t, I’m the confidence boost that pushes him through harder things, and I’m the one that’s protecting him while you’re off being honest.” Patton’s jaw twitches, a stray piece of hair tickling his cheek. He reaches up to scratch it, ignoring the skin that flakes off in droves.

 

**No turning back now**

**(Anywhere on my own)**

**('Cause I can see)**

**No, no turning back now**

**(The very worst part of you is me)**

 

“Patton, are you alright?” Roman asks gently, watching the moral side bustling around the kitchen. “You’re kind of doing a lot at once.”

“I’m perfectly fine, Roman! Everything is great!” Patton replies from behind a mountain of wobbling plates, balance precariously in his hands. He swipes a towel over a puddle with his foot, bumping drawers shut with his hips and flicking off the garbage disposal with a shoulder.  _ We both know I’m the good guy here.  _ “So how’s your day been?”

“It’s not even noon yet.” Roman takes a stack of dishes from Patton, freeing his hands to flutter about before settling on a new task. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Patton darts around the counters, cleaning and dirtying and cleaning again. “I promise, I’m perfectly fine. Everything is great!” He smiles bigger, trying to ignore how recycled his words are.  _ I’m the one that’s protecting him. _

**** “Roman, what’s going on?” Virgil asks, hopping onto one of the few remaining clear spots on the counter.

“Patton’s just doing a lot at once, I don’t know.”

“I mean, at least it’s productive,” Logan interjects from the table, toast in hand. “He’s getting tasks done, and that will be beneficial to us at some point or another.”

“See? I’m doing the right thing, aren’t you proud of me?” Patton beams.

“I feel like you’re doing more than you have to, though,” Roman says. Virgil scowls in silence, squinting an eye at Patton.

“I’m doing exactly enough! Isn’t this what you guys wanted?”

“Yeah, but not like this. This is a side of you that’s kind of worrying, y’know?” Roman is the only one still speaking.

“A side of me, ha, I get it! Nice one, Roman!” Patton ignores the soaking hem of his shirt as he leans over the sink.

“Jokes aside, this isn’t really the best part of yourself to demonstrate,” Logan says, ignoring his accidental dad joke and Patton’s excitement for it. “You’re behaving manically. Exhausting your energy reserves senselessly is a fool’s errand.”

“Something I’m sure you’d know a lot about!” Patton replies cheerfully. Logan’s brows lower in confusion, then understanding, then anger.  _ I really didn’t think you were this hopeless. _

“Patton, I daresay I prefer your unnecessary enthusiasm over this attitude,” Logan spits through gritted teeth.

“I daresay I prefer you being quiet!” Patton beams. “Although, I’m not quite sure whether that’s true or not. Can’t say I care to find out, either.”

“Patton,” Virgil murmurs. Just Patton. Nothing else. Just Patton.  _ You enjoy letting me take over. _

Maybe just a little bit.

Maybe.

 

**I remember what they taught to me**

**Remember condescending talk of who I ought to be**

 

Memories are never lost in the mindscape. They float around on the whims of the wind, bouncing off of limbs and nestling in couch cushions, waiting for someone curious enough to pick them up, dust them off, and turn them over. They sit patiently in the corners, flow through the ink of scribbling pens, drift into the rafters on the smoke of a forgotten candle. After twenty eight years of finding hidden memories, thought to be gone forever, most of the sides rarely participated in the appreciation of them. Too frivolous for Logan. Too embarrassing for Virgil. Too cemented for Roman. If the prince can’t change the past, why dwell on it?

That just leaves Patton, the heart, to care for the memories, to tend to them as they started to fade, to hold them close and give them life before setting them back on their unknowable course. Of course, not every single memory wound up in the mindscape. Just the small ones, those that Thomas didn’t really need, or even know about. Sure, the sides weren’t corporeal, but they made their own memories within the head they inhabited, and those memories had just as much of a right to exist as any other.

Maybe that’s why Patton is the one to find the memory, to stash it away before anyone else can see. The one to see the moment from so many years ago, a concrete moment he could pull out and use as evidence. Evidence for himself, or Logan, or the mirror, he doesn’t know, but he supposes it doesn’t matter, either.

_ “You’re the heart in this scenario, Patton. We’ve got Anxiety over there worrying Thomas with ungrounded fears, we’ve got Roman dreaming up useless scenarios and ideas, and we’ve got me giving him the facts to sort through it all. As the heart, you need to keep Thomas happy. You need to tell him what he needs to hear that will result in a positive mental attitude. If you can’t even do that simple task, just for once in your life, then maybe you should take a backseat here, okay? Just hang back and let us figure this one out. You can come in later and sift through the damage to make him feel better.” _

__ Patton drops the trail of memory like it’s on fire, feeling the words like a spear to his heart. They hurt now just as much as they did then, reminding him that he’s only emotions, he doesn’t have any real purpose if Thomas doesn’t feel happy. Patton knows that. He knows he’s useless, and still he persists. Why bother? Everyone else knew what roles they had to play, and maybe it’s about time Patton figures it out, too.

 

**Remember listening to all of that and this again**

**So I pretended up a person who was fittin' in**

 

“I really need to work through these memories more often,” Patton says to himself as he heads to his room, swatting a few stray recollections away from his head like flies. They hover in the air, buzzing angrily for his attention. Failed tests, fights with friends, forgotten appointments, fruitless endeavors, one and all. The particular memory that jostles his hair, however, is one he’d sooner throw in a garbage disposal than recall. Of course, this is a silly endeavor, as memories will do as they please.   
_ “Just say the opposite. You know it’s what he wants to hear. Just tell everyone a little white lie. Just a small one. Just enough to placate them. They want to hear it, so give them what they want. It’s what they’re asking for. Just do it.” Patton ignores the flash of yellow in the mirror as he flicks the light off. “I’m still here. I’m inside of you, Patton. You can’t run from me. You can’t run from your lies. You can’t run from the truth. You know I’m right. Just tell them what they want to hear. You know I’m the one they prefer. You know I’m the one they’d rather listen to, even if you won’t accept my existence yourself. You know it. I know it. They know it. Everyone knows it, Patton. Just tell them what they want to hear. That’s all you’re good for, anyway.” _

__ Patton shakes his head, ignoring the stabbing pain under his ear, the ceaseless itching on his face. The memory flees into the air, dissipating until someone else comes across it, remembering for him. Maybe if they remembered him, too, then they would realize that the other one was doing a better job of being Patton than Patton. That the other one did a better job of keeping everyone happy than Patton, whose literal job description, as given by Logan, was to keep Thomas happy. Probably for the best, anyway. Have someone else slide into Patton’s spot before he messes up catastrophically, before he can make things any worse. Making things worse is all he’s good for, anyway.

 

**And now you think this person really is me**

**And I'm (trying to bend the truth)**

**But the more I push the more I'm pulling away**

**'Cause I'm (lying my way from you)**

 

Patton supposes it should be concerning when he wakes up one morning with a pane of glass in front of his face. Maybe it should be worrying that he can’t move past it, or even go around it, but he doesn’t really care. Just a little barrier, and it’s not like there’s anything going on today. He knows the other sides are already off doing whatever they do on their own, so the only person to need breakfast is himself, and even then it’s not completely necessary. He’s just a figment of Thomas’ imagination, after all. It’s not until he looks through the glass that he realizes where he is. In the bathroom, behind the mirror. Funny, he doesn’t remember falling asleep here.

“Hello?” he calls hesitantly, knocking on the glass. A replica of him appears on the other side, popping in like Virgil does.

“Hello,” the replica says. “You can take a day off, I’ll deal with today.”

“No, it’s fine, I can do it. Want to let me out?”

“Not really, but thanks for asking. You’re just gonna stay back there for a while.” The replica claws at its face, dead skin floating down in clumps and revealing a raw red underneath. A flash of yellow blinds Patton as the replica reaches for the wall to turn out the lights. He blinks the popping bulbs away, opening his eyes to his bedroom, his normal ceiling, no mirrors in sight. The itch of a dream pokes at his mind, thoughts of being trapped in a mirror, watching himself parade around with the other sides, but not him, a better version of him, the ideal version of him, telling them the right things at the right time with the right expression. The feeling of pressing his hands to icy cold glass, every effort to escape countered by the feeling of frozen hands gripping his shoulder, yanking him back behind the mirror. The way his hand splinters when he punches the glass, both shattering in tandem, liquid jewels dotting the cracks. The shards of his skin clinking to the floor, magnified by each chip of silver glass. The yellow beads scattered around him, splattered against every surface and reminding him of the other presence in the mirror.

 

**This isn't what I wanted to be**

**I never thought that what I said would have you running from me**

**Like this**

 

“I need you to leave me alone. Right now. Got it?” Patton says to his reflection on the dresser. The haughty voice doesn’t answer, just an angry face staring back, mocking Patton in his identical irritation. “I know you’re in there. Answer me before I break you.”

Final, the two dimensional replica laughs. “You want me to leave you alone? I haven’t done anything, okay? In the last few days, I’ve been patiently waiting in this mirror. Everything you’ve said or done has been of your own volition. Yelling at Virgil, mocking Logan, it was all you. I played no part in that. It was all. You.” The reflection sneers. “If you’re so disgusted, maybe you should take a look at yourself—oh, wait, you are. I’m the you that you want to pretend doesn’t exist. I’m the you that you really are. I’m the you that everyone else prefers, but you just won’t admit it. Look around, everybody’s abandoned you. When was the last time you were all together, hmm? When you acted like a monster, they all left, and it was your fault. I haven’t done anything. It’s all your fault.”

Patton screws his face up, whipping the mirror to the floor, his muscles screeching, his hair flying around his face. The glass shards bounce on the carpet, slicing through his bare feet, cutting into his pants. His elbow slowly lowers, his breath heaving and vicious, his teeth bared in a snarl. He smacks his hands together, once, twice, thrice, relishing in the sting of his nerve endings crying out, letting the buzz bring him back.  _ I haven’t done anything. _

**** Patton observes the splinters of glass around him, the thousands of eyes staring back at his own in horror, in disgust, in hatred. His own face glares in contempt, and he watches for so long that he can’t tell which is him and which are mirrors and which are illusions of what he thought he used to be.  _ If you’re so disgusted, maybe you should take a look at yourself. _

__ Out of sheer frustration, he stomps a foot amidst the debris, ignoring the bits of glass that fly up, one lodging itself in his eye, even more peppering his skin. He lifts a hand to swipe them off, ignoring the way they cut up his hands before falling to the floor.

“Patton, we need you to help with this video, are you free?” Roman calls, knocking on the door. The only side Patton hasn’t insulted so far, of course he’s the one they sent to ask.

“Just a minute!” he responds, looking at the mess around his feet. Nothing to be done about that now, but his dripping hands are another matter. He reaches for some yellow kitchen gloves, probably forgotten from the last time he had to clean up, and ignores the way they smear pink over his palms.  _ It’s all your fault. _

 

**(You)**

**No turning back now**

**(I wanna be pushed aside, so, let me go)**

**No, no turning back now**

**(Let me take back my life)**

**(I'd rather be all alone)**

**No turning back now**

**(Anywhere on my own)**

**('Cause I can see)**

**No, no turning back now**

**(The very worst part of you)**

**(The very worst part of you is me)**

 

“Great idea, Patton!” Roman compliments, clapping a cheerful hand on his back. Patton gives a half-hearted grin, ignoring the little feeling in his chest that it wasn’t his idea, that he’s not in control here. More than anything, he wants this video planning to be over so he can return to his room, be by himself, try to regain some semblance of control over the spiraling catastrophe he’s fallen into.

Nowhere near soon enough, the planning ends, the camaraderie ends, and everyone splits off to do their own thing, ignoring the presence of everyone else in the mindscape. Why hang out together when they wouldn’t interact at all, anyway? Roman to his frivolous dreamland, Virgil to his corner of headphones, Logan to his textbooks, and Patton to his room, if it were a normal day. Of course, everyone knows that nothing stays normal for long. He heads for the bathroom.

“You said that it’s my fault, but I didn’t used to act like this. I didn’t used to hurt my friends,” Patton says, pointing an accusatory finger at the mirror as he locks the door behind him.

“Oh, sure you did,” the reflection replies with a careless wave of his hand. “You just didn’t know. You just didn’t  _ want _ to know.”

“That makes no sense.”

“You were deceiving yourself, obviously. Deceit. Concealing or misrepresenting the truth. You really believe you were honest with yourself in protecting Thomas’ feelings?” The replica sneers. “As if. What you don’t know can’t hurt you, and it seems there’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Who  _ are  _ you?” Patton demands, clenching his hands into a fist inside the ugly yellow gloves. The last thing he needs is to explain another shattered mirror to the other sides, especially one that everyone uses.

“Deceit. I just said that, didn’t I?” The replica scratches its face harder, ignore the mountain of dead skin piling up on the counter. “These cuts on your face are really itchy, y’know that?” The speckles of raw skin mesh together, a checkerboard that Patton feels burrowing into his own cheek, the rash climbing into his hair and over his chin. “Ah, shoot!” The replica hisses, clasping its hands over its eye. A scratch that went too high, too deep. Patton feels a twin pain in his own, the skin swelling as the effects of Logan’s experiment return. The replica lowers its hands, grinning just a little too wide. Its injured eye glows a yellowy green, obviously infected from the experiment that Patton was so careless with.

“Of course, I’m sure you don’t actually care who I am. You just want me to leave you alone, as you so eloquently put it.” The replica leans forward, smearing the counter in pink stains. “I think what you’ve failed to realize is that I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be right here, because that’s what I do. You can keep messing up and blaming it on me, break as many mirrors as you want, but I’m staying right here.” The replica slams a fist into the wall in the reflection, sending the light switch into a fit of sparks before the power cuts out. The replica vanishes in a pop of yellow light, leaving Patton staring at himself, hollow and broken, in the mirror. Despite everything, it’s still him.


End file.
